Heroes Never Die
by Xavirne
Summary: Mercy has been plagued by nightmares all week. It's all been leading up to the day Jack Morrison died. Finally, her fears engulf her and send her into the dark streets. Alone, she quickly becomes a victim of the night. Soldier 76, realizing he still cares deeply for her, takes off after her and refuses to return until his Mercy is safe in his arms. Warning: Cheesy quotes
1. Remembering Past Heroes

_I'm just going to apologize now because this is trash. I am trash. I am so sorry. But I love my Mercy76. And per popular request, I have decided to expand my story. Instead of a one-shot, I'll be turning this into a full-blown story. Stay tuned for additional chapters!_

* * *

A small grimace crossed Winston's face as he joined his teammates at the table. He wasn't really going to join them in eating, but rather keep a watchful eye on their expressions. This was the week leading up the dreaded death of their beloved companion, Jack Morrison. And this? Well, this was the first time the gang was together again.

As he kept an observant eye on all his friends (old habits die hard), he knew how they behaved. Most would grieve alone, drink with friends, or spend a few hours wandering the Overwatch Exhibit at the museum. You know, reliving the good old days. But there was one in particular whose emotions caused him some concern.

 _Mercy._

Being with her old friends was the medicine she needed but...

Well, just looking at her, you could see the scars she wore. The incident that took the lives of Jack and Gabriel still burdened her. And now that the group was eating together, sans those two, he could only imagine what her mind was thinking. How she failed Jack. How she failed Reyes. How she lost HQ and couldn't do a damn thing about it.

Angela was strong, impressively strong. Her stomach was lined with lead or something as little phased her, especially in the gore and horror department. But when it came to past crushes...

She sighed, looking at the meal before her. It was the same old, same old. Chicken, carrots, and beans. Her folk glided her chunk of chicken around the plate until she reluctantly took a bite of it.

"We should do something," Tracer said. She meant no harm by it. The sweet girl was always trying to do something that could bring the group together.

"A tournament," DVa was quick to add. That large, sly smirk on her face.

"No, not that _kind_ of something. I mean in honor of the lives lost."

Silence filled the room before Mercy spoke.

"I think it's a wonderful idea," although her words seemed riddled with sorrow, her eyes seemed hopeful. "A memento to give thanks to those who lost their lives so we could return again."

"Exactly," Tracer purred before turning to the rest of the table. "Dish to pass? Our personal favorites?" Her accent as cute as always.

DVa's eyes went wide. "How about we leave you on cleanup."

" _What!_ " Tracer's brown fringe fell flat in her face. "Are you saying I can't cook?"

"She's just saying that the last time you grilled burgers, they were still mooing." McCree cracked a grin. Tracer, being the speedy type, might have forgotten that just because she can manipulate time didn't mean food could. She had the burgers done in record time only to find out she hadn't cooked them at all. "Not that I mind but I'm pretty sure DVa still has nightmares about them."

The shorter brunette's face had a slight green hue to it. Her fingers covered her lips. "So...much...b-"

" _Beer_ ," McCree cut her off, seeing the paling faces of the others. "A lot of beer."

DVa's head instantly nodded. "Yes, all of it."

"Whoa," Mercy's finger pointed down the table to the little lassie, "someone's not old enough yet. You'll have to leave the drinking to us."

McCree, who was sitting beside Mercy shook his head no. He would sneak the gamer girl some drinks while Mercy wasn't watching.

"Don't think I can't see your nodding, _Jesse_ ," her lips curled up into a coy smirk.

Jaw dropping, the cowboy sank in his seat some. How the hell did she know he was nodding?!

"I have eyes on the back of my head," she looked over her shoulder, "it's how I keep you kids out of trouble." Her cheeky wink followed.

" _Kids?_ " Reinhardt's bellowing laugh filled the room, immediately drowning out any thought of sadness. "Last time I checked, I had a good few years on you, Ang."

"My apologizes," her hand pressed lightly against her chest, "it's how I keep you kids and _grandparents_ out of trouble."

Junkrat, amused by the whole lot, soon joined in with the laughter and added a few little sly comments here and there about how Mercy was all right, save for being a hardass when it came to post-battle inspections.

"You'll thank me for them," she added in a mockish, sing-song tone. "You all know what happened to Jesse." The way she flitted her lashes made the cowboy squirm.

"We don't have to remind them," his hand raked nervously through his hair. "Besides, aren't you bound by some doc-patient thinger-magger?"

As the evening antics continued, one particular brute at the table finally decided he had enough. Soldier 76. Raising promptly and without warning, he stopped off into another room away from the giddy crowd.

"What's _his_ problem," DVa asked without restraint.

"Old geezer needs to turn in for the day. It's past his bedtime," Junkrat quipped before a few of the younger members found themselves laughing.

"Maybe that should be our cue," Winston chimed in. "It is getting late and we need to move out early. We're combing the west corner."

"Awww," DVa's lip quivered. "But we were just getting to the part where Ang, Jack, and Gabe decided to have a shot drinking contest."

"And we all know _I_ won," Mercy said with a wry grin plastered on her face.

"Oh that's how it went?" Reinhardt punched Torbjörn lightly. "That what you recall?"

"No, I'm pretty sure Jack had to haul your ass back to camp."

"Remember how jealous Gabriel was? Oh he was fuming. Why did Jack get to parade Ang around? Wouldn't let that go for weeks."

"Wait," Tracer's nose twitched much like that of a bunny, "Reyes _and_... Ang?"

At that comment, Mercy barked. "Are you serious? _Me? Him?_ Ha! I would rather kiss a dog!"

"Oooh hooo damn," Lucio's hand covered his mouth. "Rejection!"

"No, it's called friendzoned," DVa corrected with her most bratty tongue ever. "Ang was too busy eyeing _her_ Jacky Wacky-poo."

"H-how, how would you know?" The nervousness in her voice obvious due to the pitch change. Not to mention that slight stammer.

"You have a picture of him tucked in your med log," her wide, white grin spread across her face. "When you stepped into the next room to get those bandages, I might have looked through your book. His picture fell out." As smug as the little bug she was, she teased on. "I can only imagine what you do to that picture. Looked a little _too_ loved. Oooh la la- _ahhhh_!"

"HANA SONG!" She was diving across the table, ready to murder the small child. Her bare fingertips just gracing the girl's long, brown locks.

Thankfully, McCree was ready and tugging the woman back into her seat. There would be no strangling kids tonight. "On that note, scatter!" he rattled out while dealing with the flailing elbows. He did manage to keep her seated while everyone else dove into the other room. Granted, in the process he did take her elbow to his nose.

"Doc," he said gravelly once she settled down, "I'm going to need you to look at this."

"It's not broken," her defiant head turn and _'hmmpft!'_ followed. "I could have taken her," she muttered.

"Uh-huh, sure. She's half your age."

"She's not! She's-"

"No, we're not half-mathing here. It's close enough. Now off you go. I'll clean up." He looked to Winston. "You in?"

Released from McCree's firm yet gentle grip, Mercy marched off into the hallway. The bathroom was full-Tracer, DVa, Symmetra-were all doing their thing. Pharah and Mei were changing in the room and getting ready for bed. Zarya was locking up her gear before heading to the bathroom to join the others. Though based on the light screaming coming from there, Mercy had a feeling a water-fight had broken out.

Shaking her head, the blonde medic decided she would spend the next few hours sitting out on the balcony just staring up at the twilight sky.

Only, those minutes soon became hours.

When silence finally wrapped around her, so did a claim, gentle voice.

"Ang," Winston stepped up beside her, "it's time."

Blue orbs glued to the heavens above, she nodded. Breathlessly, she added, "Yeah." Following after him, she washed up quickly before changing into her silky satin lingerie. She wasn't trying to look sexy. It's just...well, and Tracer thought it would be funny. Mercy was always so prim and proper. To see her in a cute white and orange gown with lace? It just made them giggle (and also stare a bit as she was breathtaking in it).

Undoing her hair, she lowered herself to the floor. Tracer and 's beds were right beside hers. They said they felt safe beside her, like an angel was watching over them.

Propping herself up on an elbow, she leaned forward to kiss 's still pink cheek. "Sweet," she rolled over to kiss Tracer's cheek, "dreams." Falling back against her sleeping bag and pillow, she smiled. It was nice to be close to them. To have friends. To not be alone.

 _Alone._

The smile faded. Turning over, she tugged her bag up around her shoulders. Alone.

Lip quivering, she slammed her eyes shut. She pushed out the sound of explosions. The broken look on his face.

 _Alone._

* * *

Body shooting up, she glanced around the room. A cold sweat clung to her creamy peach-colored face. Hair wet and matted due to her hot flashes, the blonde un-mangled herself from the blankets. Instantly, the night air hit her but it wasn't enough. She was still too warm.

Gingerly, she rolled up from her bed and tiptoed across the smooth wooden floor. It didn't creak or moan, which was nice. Helped that the weight was distributed across the room.

Hand feeling the grain of the wood that made up the door, she jerked the handle up before twisting the knob. It slid open without a sound. With swift, quick steps, she escaped into the hallway before making a bee-line for the balcony.

The air chilled her body in seconds. Hands crossing over her chest, she paid little to no attention to the visible points formed by her cleavage. Why would it matter? It wasn't like anyone else was up.

Slumping up against the railing, her sapphire eyes flew to the sky above. The mix of black, blue, and purple brought her to awe. "So beautiful."

Blissfully, she lost herself in the celestial world above. Only, the more she stared, the more her heart began to ache. He...he was up there.

Head falling down, Mercy found tears swelling in her eyes. He was gone. "Why, why did you leave me?" Her breathing started to deform. It was now heavy and off beat. "The world needs you. _I_ need you." He was gone. Really gone. And she never found the courage to tell him how she fel-

A noise came from behind. Hand gripping the railing, she whirled around with grit teeth. Leaning back against the bar, her legs lifted into the air before folding on themselves. In that same second, they went flying out, kicking the solid form back against the sturdy wall.

She hadn't registered who her attacker was yet, but she didn't want to give them that opening. Arms releasing from the railing, she flew forward with her elbow primed and ready to dish out some serious damage. She knew the human body. She knew where to push to make it hurt. She could do this. So what if she was a medic! She could be a fighter! She could-

In a blur, she was falling back against her attacker. The hand snaked around her neck, cutting off her breath. Her spark. Her fighting spirit. She was going to die. This was going to be the end and she couldn't even scream for help!

Eyes wide with panic, she flailed and flung her arms wildly, doing all she could to break free. She had to find her voice. Tracer would come. McCree would come. They would save her. They were family!

"Christ, Mercy!" The grip around her neck loosened. "It's me," the voice said while stepping around to put himself in her sights. "Soldier 76." Hands flying up, he submitted to her as she was clearly still on the offensive. He did manage to rub his sore jaw in the process too. That red visor looking directly at her, making her skin crawl.

Hands flying around her neck, Mercy looked from herself to the man before her. Teammate. Teammate, she kept telling herself. Still, he could have at least taken that mask off!

"Breathe," he instructed.

She did. Slowly. In and then out. Again. And again until her heart stopped racing and beating a mile a minute.

"There," his arms fell over his chest. Stepping forward, he rested his elbows along the balcony's edge.

Hand running loosely through her blonde locks, she laughed sheepishly. "Sorry. I, uh, I thought I was alone." She completely forgot about her attire and found herself wrapped up in Soldier's form. He had a nice build. Her eyes faltered. And a nice ass. Oh yes, it was indeed fine. So what if she was staring?

"Can I help _you_ with something?"

Red smeared across her cheeks. "No, no. All is well. I ju-"

The space between them vanished. His hand now rested against her tender cheek. Then it slipped away and fell against her forehead.

Blinking, her brows furrowed. "What are you doing?"

"You're pretty red in the face."

"It's why I'm outside. It's hot in the room. Winston said no-"

He was close. So close. If he wasn't wearing that damn mask she could have sworn he was going to kiss her. Hell, she almost wanted him too!

Mercy's hand fell against his chest. It was so firm. That black shirt looked amazing on him. His arms. Ugh, she could get used to running her fingers up and down them. A kiss. Just one kiss. Maybe it would help her forget? A distraction? Yes, a distraction!

"You sure you're felling all right?"

She fanned herself before stepping back. "Yes, I'm fine. I, uh, I...I should go. Wouldn't want Tracer to miss me."

" _Uh huh._ "

With her vanishing back inside, Soldier slammed his fist into the railing.

" _Really?_ You had three chances and you blew them all." He was kicking himself for not saying, 'yes you are' when she said 'so beautiful.' He was also beating himself up for not grabbing some of that ass. And did you see what she was wearing? It was a good thing he tucked his dick up before stepping out. A boner wouldn't have been quite the introduction he needed.

 _If you could call it an introduction._

"If only you knew," he whispered. Sighing, he too decided it was time to call it quits. Maybe tomorrow he could try talking to her again.


	2. Heroes Never Die

Her nights were becoming routine. Soldier 76 kept telling himself one of these evenings he would grow a pair and actually confess his attraction to her.

No, scratch that. Mercy deserved more than that. If he was good, he would wait for her to get out on the balcony, face crestfallen and covered in tears, and give into that long overdue kiss. The sexual tension they shared back then was starting to grow within him. He wasn't sure he could keep his hands off her any longer.

Setting his alarm for 10 minutes before 2:00AM, Soldier 76 wore a brief smile on his face. Tonight was the night. When she got to the balcony, he would greet her with the romance she deserved.

 _Beep beep beep, beep beep beep._ The three little chirps went off and he sprung from his bed. His hand went for his mask but he waved it off. "Would be hard to kiss her with that on," he joked. Besides, she had to see that he, Jack Morrison, was alive.

He shuddered. What if he was reading into this all wrong. What if she hated him?

No, he didn't self-doubt. He was the goddamn _golden boy_. He was positive Mercy had to have some sort of crush on him.

Stepping from his room, he moved silently to the balcony. Hiding in the shadows, he waited for her to join him.

Only, she didn't come.

His brows furrowed. Was she finally resting well? Was her emotional rollercoaster over? Had he missed his chance?

 _"JACCCCCCK!"_

His name rang out in a way that caused a shiver to run down his spine. It was a blood-curdling scream. The kind of scream a woman would utter before she was brutally murd-

His eyes went wide.

Making a quick pitstop to his room, he grabbed his gear before barreling down the hall. Foot making contact with the wooden door, he kicked it in. Splinters falling everywhere as that glowing red visor became the first thing they saw.

A few more screams followed as the women didn't expect a man to come crashing in.

"Where is she," he demanded in a no-bullshit mood.

Tracer rubbed her eyes, still trying to wrap her head around what happened. Mercy's bed was right next to hers after all.

Pharah was scanning the open window. "I heard something before she screamed. I think we-" her brows furrowed. "Where did he?"

McCree was standing in the door next. Soon accompanied by Winston and Junkrat.

"Mercy," Tracer pouted. "She's been taken."

McCree, Winston, and Junkrat looked between themselves. "But she was..."

"Don't ask how," Tracer growled. "She's just gone!"

Pharah started putting on her gear but Winston immediately put an end to that. "No, we need to figure out what happened. This could be a trap."

"Should have told that to 76," grumbled while rubbing her eyes. "He was in here the second she screamed. And now he's gone."

As the crew continued to bicker back and forth about what might have happened, Soldier 76 was racing up and down the nearby streets. Unlike the others, he knew they weren't attacked. He was literally standing outside. If a sniper or assassin wanted to kill someone, it would have been him. Odds were, Mercy was reliving a nightmare. She was likely running blindly thought the crumbling streets. Her scream was the same scream he heard the day he supposedly died. It was the call of a woman who had lost her everything.

Slowing his pace to a near-jog, he eventually came to a halt. His trail was cold. He was just guessing on things now. How could he find her? Where would she go?

It couldn't have been far, he surmised. She didn't have her wings. That and she was barefoot.

The window! It was open. They weren't allowed to sleep with the windows open for fear of sniper fire! She likely ran out that. Like she was running from an explosion. That meant his hunch was right. That she ought to be around here. He just had to figure out which-

Not too far off, the sound he feared most gripped his ears. It was the sound of men laughing manically and the muffled pleading of a woman. In her rather scantily clad lingerie, Mercy was an easy mark for any men with ill-intentions that wandered the street looking for a bite to eat.

Wincing, he grit his teeth before taking off in a dead sprint down the back alley. Images spammed his mind, much like those annoying 90s popups. Each flashing image more heart-wrenching then before.

Feet flying faster than they had ever flown before, he finally reached that corner. Sucking in his breath, he prayed for the best but knew to expect the worst.

The soles of his shoes allowed him to skid gracefully into the opening between the looming, depreciated buildings. The second he appeared in the nape between the buildings, the clouds above parted to allow the moon's silver rays to reflect off his tactical visor and silver hair.

He looked good. Damn good. Just like the hero Angela used to gush about.

Gun trained on the hunched over bodies before him, he found her. Angela. Her body was pinned against a dumpster, an arch to her back as large tears cascaded down her face. Her arms were pulled behind her, legs spread apart. Silk pajamas ruffled and on the brink of falling off. Small cuts and scraps littered her arms, elbows, and legs. There was a raw spot on her cheek and chin that looked like it burned like the fire of hell.

Drinking in the grotesque sight before him, Soldier 76 found his blood boiling. No one but he could dare lay a finger on his precious Angela. To defile her was to defile an angel, his angel.

Without a second's thought, the ring of bullets deafened the air. Return fire followed, though Soldier 76 was no novice in this game. Rolling behind a crate, he took the makeshift cover for granted. Popping in a new clip, he rolled back into the crossfire. Only, this time, his visor glowed that ominous red.

"Tactical visor engaged," he quipped in his usual well-rehearsed tone.

Moments later, the spray of bullets and blood ended. Stark silence lingered in the air as did that all too familiar yet never favorable scent of death.

Scanning over the mangled bodies, he finally pulled his gaze over to the grieving woman who's back now rested up against the dumpster. She was defeated. Broken. A look of sheer agony glazed over her eyes. She felt remorse. She felt guilt. She felt lost, alone, afraid.

His shoe squeaked against the pavement as he took his first step toward her. At the noise, her body flinched, which caused him to hasten his steps so he wouldn't make her suffer any longer.

Soldier 76 dropped to his knees, squatting and eyeing her. She looked beat to hell but, but somewhere in those lost bluebell eyes was a flicker of hope. She was thankful and she was probably reliving that first moment when they met.

"Angela," he whispered though he wasn't sure why.

Instantly, her hand rose up as if to tell him to stop. "I," she sniffled while running her arm across her face, "I'm sorry I caused yo-" her eyes looked up. She was pleading him not to interrupt her. "I miss him," she admitted; the words came like vomit. Out of nowhere and unexpected. "I thought I could do this. I thought maybe rejoining Overwatch would help me move on. It didn't. If anything, it just made matters worse."

She paused to catch her breath. To steady her aching heart.

Her sad azure eyes locked with his, which caused Soldier 76's heart to sink. He couldn't stand seeing her like this. It tore him to pieces. Angie deserved better. He never should have put her through this hell. He should have just come forward. Come clean. He had his chance days ago and he missed it. Now he was kicking his ass for being the dick Reyes always said he was.

"I lost him," she muttered though repeated it again. "I lost him. And I never had a chance to tell him how I felt. I thought it would be easy. Moving on. But," her brows furrowed, she was about to step out of her character, "but damn it all to fucking hell-"

Yes, she was still the same Angela, always wearing that cute little wrinkle on her nose when she was about to say something she didn't like. Ah, he could never get over that. She was precious, too precious.

"I loved him."

Soldier 76 kept his eyes locked on her. They seemed to fade and zone, hallowed over by fear. Regret. Who, he wanted to ask. But deep down, he knew who.

"Jack," her voice cracked before her body curled up on itself again. "I lost my Jack. My hero." She buried her tears in her hands, refusing to look up again. The more she cried, the more ragged her breathing became. She was working herself up. On the brink of hyperventilating.

"Angela," he was going to kill himself later for saying this but, "heroes never die."

Yup. He couldn't believe he just uttered such a cheesy line. But it was there thing. He was awkward. She was gorgeous. He didn't know how to talk to her. Hell, he never did. It's why he never asked her out so long ago.

Slowly, he peeled back the mask that kept his identity from the world. As he did so, he saw Angela pan her gaze from his chest up to his lips. Then, finally his eyes.

Her lips pursed as her eyes tried to register just what was before her. For a moment, she looked happy. No, behind happy. This was magic. There was a glisten and glow to her sapphire orbs. Her face was like that of a bride on her wedding day, glowing with bliss.

Angela's hand reached across the space between them but stopped when she took hold of the scars that ran along his face. Pulling that hand back, she quivered her lip before turning her head to the side. The look of hope faded. Instantly, her skin paled and her eyes fell a dull gray color. "I'm dreaming," she whispered. She knew she had been lacking sleep, proper nutrition, and after this scare...well, her wits.

"Angie," Jack cooed while gracing her cheek with his no longer gloved hand, "it's me. I'm right here. I haven't left you."

His words fell on deaf ears, as indicated by the sudden fall forward. She landed against his chest, body completely exhausted. And if he really listened, he could hear her faint coo-like snoozing. She sounded just like a kitten.

"The one time I try to be romantic and you fall asleep on me," he chided while rolling his eyes. "Whoever said heroes get the babes clearly has no idea what they're talking about." He pouted thought quickly grew a smirk. He knew Angela loved her romantic revelations and reveals. Too bad she wouldn't remember this one. Oh well, at least she was safe. At least they were together.

Scooping her into his arms, Jack didn't even bother reapplying his facial apparatus. He was more concerned about getting his blonde beauty into bed and making sure she was all right.

When he finally arrived back at their bunker, he was met with the panicked faces of their friends. They had finally figured out that Mercy left on her own accord; that there was no kidnapping. That her gripping fear drove her from the room and to the streets.

At first, they paid no attention to the maskless Soldier 76. They were all worried about their Mercy, their beloved medic. They hadn't realized just how much pain she was enduring when she decided to rejoin Overwatch. They felt guilty, like they should have known she would have grieved over Jack's death on the day of his funeral's anniversary. Today.

Refusing to let anyone take her from his arms, Winston finally caught that familiar face in his eyes.

"I've done enough damage," Jack quipped before pushing past the awestruck, mouth ajar faces of their friends. When his back was finally to them, he added one last comment. "It's good to be back."

Pushing open his door, he vanished into the dark room. He didn't bother turning on the lights; he knew his way around. Making a bee-line for the bed, he laid his sleeping partner on his bed. Walking away, he grabbed a towel and dampened it before patting her arms and cheek (thought if he had turned the lights on he would have learned it was her stomach and nose he was cleaning up). It wasn't perfect (namely because he was guessing in the dark now), but it would do.

Tugging off his shoes then jacket, he crawled onto the bed beside her. Jack refused to let her out of his sights. She would stay beside him until he was ready to let her go. And, from how things were playing out, he highly doubted that day would ever come.

"I'm home," he whispered while brushing back her golden fringe. "And I don't plan on leaving your side."

Although he couldn't see it, he knew Angela was smiling. Her soldier had returned.


End file.
